


Ode To Vic

by sfscarlet



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Gift Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfscarlet/pseuds/sfscarlet
Summary: Brian's thoughts about why he rode in the Liberty Ride
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Kudos: 6
Collections: Queer as Folk Holiday Gift Exchange





	Ode To Vic

As I watch the bus of happy homos drive toward Canada, I am struck with a sense of loss that I did not expect. Vic's death still feels fresh, even though its been months since he died. The men and women riding on the bus have joined together for the Liberty Ride, an effort to raise money for the AIDS hospice home. I get in my car and drive to the airport to wait for my flight to Canada. As I drive to the airport and mindlessly go through TSA, I can't help but contemplate why I am flying to fucking Canada in March. The fact that there is even a Liberty Ride is something that I could not have contemplated 6 months ago. The day Vic Grassi died was also the day some trick found a lump on my nut. 

I don't like feelings and I would be the first one to tell you that sharing my feelings is not in my wheelhouse. So, when I heard the news that Vic had died, I did what I usually do, I shot my mouth off. Sure, it was a defense mechanism, but I was never going to admit to anyone that his death hit me deep in my gut. Brian Kinney does not apologize, and he does not have any regrets. Well, to the world, maybe I don't have regrets, but behind closed doors, well that is another story. I told Debbie that she should be thankful that he was given the last few years since he should have died. She slapped me and yelled for me to get out. Now, I know she was hurting and probably had an even deeper hole in her gut, so I don't really blame her for telling me to leave. In a way, my own defense mechanisms saved my life. I didn't want to talk. Brian Kinney is not a lesbian who talks everything to death. I did what I do best. I went to get my cock sucked. As fate would have it, I chose a doctor to heal my pain and he told me to get checked out. He had felt a lump. 

My first reaction was to ignore it, but then I changed my mind. Sonny boy came to see me and I realized, well admitted to myself really, that I wanted to be around for him. But hell if I was going to tell anyone what was going on. Again, that smack of lesbianism which I am definitely not. Sure, I was going to lose a ball, but that did not make me a lesbian. 

Along came Justin. Now, if I'd been smart, I would have had him in the shower with me where he belonged, but I was not smart and he heard the damn doctor's message on my recorder. I can't blame the doctor, even though I would love to do just that. He was calling my home and Justin happened to be waiting for me to get out of the shower. Jennifer had done a really good job raising him, and teaching him all the correct ways to handle situations. He was not going to pick up my phone; he would let it go to voicemail. But that did not stop him from hearing the incriminating message. However, lucky for me, he learned from the Brian Kinney operating manual; it was not a good idea to confront me about the message. Now, he wasn't really the sharpest tool in the shed on this one, as he went crying to Michael. Michael, who absolutely has no filters and can't hide a feeling from a flea, came crying to me for reassurance. Of course, Michael tells Justin not to tell me he knows, but then Michael comes blubbering to me about how he can't fucking lose me. He just lost Vic and .... Ad nauseam. Here I am trying to work through my own shit and now I've got to reassure Mikey that I'll be fine. Let me tell you that it was not high on my priorities. 

So there I was 6 months ago, learning that the closest thing to a real father had just died and now I might be following in his footsteps way sooner than I ever dreamed. I always thought I would go out in a blaze of glory before I hit 30. My 30th birthday came as much of a surprise to myself as it did to my crazy little family. I'm not sure when I decided that hitting 40 or maybe even older would not be that terrible. 

But Vic had died from complications of his meds. These are the meds that he was taking to keep the deadly fucking HIV virus at bay. Ironic that the medication that was sustaining his life was also what actually killed him. The one good thing about his death was that no one had to fucking watch him waste away inch by inch and in pain. He died sitting in his fucking easy chair watching some lame-ass tv show. Probably some stupid cooking show or a rerun of a 70's sitcom, but whatever, he died with dignity. He didn't die with his ass hanging out of some damn hospital gown or shriveled up in a hospice bed. He died. 

And that horrific event brings me to the Liberty Ride. Well, I must digress as it is not the real reason for the Liberty Ride. Vic was a huge supporter of the Aids hospice house and volunteered there frequently. To honor his memory, the GLC wanted to do a fundraiser to support the hospice. They hired some fancy fundraiser who ultimately had lining his pockets in mind, and not the Center's. I fucking warned them that he was not legit, but they wouldn't listen. Not that I would probably have listened to me either. I am not known for my support of that institution, but in this situation, I felt like I owed it to Vic to help. When the slimeball took all the money raised, I was more than disappointed. I wanted to fix it. Yes, I tend to want to fix things and this situation was no different. I wanted to fix it so the hospice kept running. Thus, the Liberty Ride was born. It gave all the happy homos an opportunity to support something that no one wanted to ever have to use, but some knew that ultimately, it would be the place they spent their dying days.

Jeez, their dying days sounds like some maudlin copywriting to pull at the fucking heartstrings of gullible people. I am neither gullible nor do I have heartstrings, but I wanted to support the ride in honor of Vic.

Vic was like the father I wish I'd had. Well, maybe he was the favorite uncle. I really don't have to put a label on it. He was the man who taught me so much. When I first met Michael, he was living in New York. Michael used to talk about Uncle Vic. He had a serious case of hero-worship going. He and Deb used to go visit Vic in the summer for a few weeks. Mikey was fascinated by New York with all its comic shops and geekiness. As he got older, Vic took him to the village where Mikey saw a similar version of Liberty Avenue. Mikey confirmed his attraction to males and Vic was a great teacher. 

Michael didn't have a father so, Uncle Vic was the stand-in. That was a little difficult since he didn't live in the Pitts. According to Michael, Vic visited a lot when he was younger and attempted to provide a masculine presence in his life. Well, we all know how that turned out, boys and girls. Michael likes cock, so I guess Vic did a good job. Don't let me influence the whole nature vs nurture bullshit. My old man chased anything in a skirt and look how I turned out. I met Vic after he was positive. I wish I had known him before he was diagnosed, but that wasn't in the cards. 

Vic came to visit Debbie one year while I was in high school. Of course, I got invited to the house for Sunday dinner and we started our life long friendship and tutelage. I was immediately drawn to the man. Here was a gay man, a real man, not some teenager with raging hormones. I remember Vic talked about his many boyfriends and his current lover. He talked about relationships and one night stands. He even talked about tricking. I was fascinated. I knew I was gay by the time I met Vic. I'd already had my first blow job, thanks to the gym teacher at school. But I really didn't know about Babylon and picking up guys. Obviously, this was not something my old man was going to talk to me about. Vic was the man who taught me how to use a condom. I remember the conversation.

"Brian, we need to talk," Vic said one night as we cleared the table after dinner. 

"Sure," I said, not having a clue what he would want to talk about, but always eager to have a private conversation with him. I think there was a little hero worship going on in my corner, but maybe it was just thankfulness that someone thought I was worthy of having a conversation with. My old man and my mother were never one to "talk" and I can't remember them ever voluntarily wanting to talk to me. Usually, their conversation consisted of questions or demands regarding my whereabouts, or any money I had that my dad could use to buy booze. 

"I know you're gay and I want you to be safe," he said. 

"Okay," I said. I wasn't going to deny my attraction to men, and I had heard about AIDS. Back then, it was pretty much a death sentence if you were diagnosed. There weren't antivirals and no one really knew what to do about treating the disease. Of course, there was such a stigma surrounding HIV, and it was also controversial. Only gay men were diagnosed with it, so having the diagnosis meant you were gay. These days, more is known about the disease, but it still is considered a gay man's disease. 

"I'll be right back." He went to his room and grabbed a handful of condoms. He then went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bananas. He tore open the condom package and peeled the banana back about 2⁄3 way. Grabbing the condom, he slowly put the tip of the condom on the banana and slid it down. 

"See, how the tip of the condom is not touching the banana? You want to get condoms with tips so there is room for the jizz. Make sure you don't poke holes in the condom when you slide it down. They are thin, so you can feel a lot. They don't break too easily, but you could poke a hole in it with your fingernail if you aren't careful," Vic was all business; like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. I appreciated his efforts and his no-nonsense ways.

"Okay, you try it," Vic said, handing me my own condom and banana. I tried a few times before he was satisfied. "Never, and I mean NEVER, have sex without a condom. Not only can you catch STDs but you can get HIV and that will kill you," Vic said. 

"Okay," I said. I believed what Vic told me and to this day, I would never have sex without a condom. I may have thought I'd be dead by 30, but I never had the desire to die of AIDS.

Vic took the condoms and bananas and threw them away in the kitchen trash. "Now, how about we head to the movies." 

I don't remember where Mikey was during this little impromptu lesson, but it was something Vic really instilled in me. It meant a lot. Little did I know at the time that he was already positive and that was probably the impetus for the talk. 

Vic was the first one to take me to Babylon and the baths. He got me an ID and after he left, I frequented both places. I found that tricking was a great way to escape from my horrific home life and it felt damn good to boot.

A few years after that visit, Mikey told me Vic had HIV and that he was dying. He and Deb were going on a once in a lifetime trip to Italy, and that was supposed to be Vic's last hurrah.  
They went and Vic got really sick; we all thought he was going to die, but he didn't. He survived and he got better. Deb brought him back to the Pitts and nursed him back to health. That is kind of an oxymoron since you can't really nurse a dying man back to health. Anyway, he lived 4 more years before he died. 

And when he died, a part of me died with him. When the fundraiser for the center bombed and there was no money for the hospice house, someone thought up the idea for the Liberty Ride and I wanted to participate.

Of course, there was this little problem called cancer. After his death, I didn't tell anyone about my own diagnosis. There were actually several reasons behind my decision. 

I knew Mikey would fall apart, especially so soon after Vic's death. I was right on that front, and still, wish he hadn't found out.

I didn't want anyone's pity. I watched everyone fawn over Vic when he was really sick and they thought he was on death's door. I did not want everybody hovering over me, weeping and clingy telling me how much they fucking loved me. I know that I'm tolerated by most of the family and my absence would not really be missed. I didn't want them coming over to "take care" of me due to some misinformed notion that I was helpless.

I didn't want Justin to have damaged goods. I knew he loved me, yeah, I know I should tell him, but we are not talking about that situation. He loved me but he was fucking barely an adult. He was bashed and that changed him. I'm sure if I told him he would have been with me out of obligation. I didn't want that.

Of course, I couldn't tell Deb as she wasn't speaking to me. 

So, I had decided not to tell anyone about my cancer. Well, boys and girls, we all know how that worked out. Justin found out when he listened to the message from the doctor and he, in turn, told Mikey. Ted found out when I was turning green at the office and was falling asleep at 10:00 in the morning. My best-laid plans failed on every front. I eventually even told Deb and she was not happy that I had kept her out of the loop. 

So, evidently, I was not slated to die at this juncture and everyone was aware of my brush with death. Having Vic die so suddenly, everyone was acutely aware of how precious life is and all of them were as clingy as hell. No one thought I should ride.

Justin fucking followed me in the middle of the night and found me riding the bike at the gym. When he confronted me and I told him I was prepping for the ride, he was furious. He reminded me that I just finished radiation and that I needed to take it easy. We argued, but my mind was already made up. I was riding.

Vic was not only my surrogate dad, favorite uncle or whatever title you want to give him, but he was also the reason I needed to ride. Here was this man who was told he was dying, but instead of allowing his body to succumb to a fucking disease, he fought it and won. He won for over 4 years and lived life. During those four years, I spent a lot of time with him. He pushed me to be the best homosexual. He reminded me to be careful, use condoms, etc, but the most important thing he gave me was his time. 

Everyone in the family had an opinion about my life. Lindsay wanted me to be a father for Gus; although she wanted it on her terms and timetable; ie when she thought I should interact with him. Michael's role was as my best friend. While we weren't 14 anymore, I did appreciate that someone loved me unconditionally. Ted, well I think he wanted me to live his life vicariously through mine, picking up any trick he wanted and having all the guys fawn over him. Justin wanted to be my partner. And Debbie, well she wanted to be my mother, telling me what she thought I should do with my life. 

But Vic was different. He never told me what to do or how to act. He encouraged me to follow the voices in my head. He pushed me to do what felt right for me, not what anybody else thought I should do. He never tried to guilt me into doing anything. He just accepted that I was trying to manage my life the best I could. Vic would always make time to hang out, or just talk to me. Most people did not realize that Vic and I were that close, but he really was a role model for me. He didn't make excuses for his life, the way he lived in New York and how he got sick. He was doing what he loved and enjoying life on his terms. I owed him that. The ride was in his honor and fuck cancer and fuck the doctors and naysayers. As long as I was walking and talking, I was going to ride. I needed to show the world that Brian Kinney doesn't let cancer change his life. I needed to make Vic proud. 

When Justin got the opportunity to go to California to talk about Rage becoming a movie, I encouraged him to go. Of course, the twat didn't want to go since he had committed to the ride, but I finally convinced him he needed to go. He, of course, thought that if he didn't go, that meant that I wouldn't ride either. He was wrong. I was going, with or without him. So here I sit waiting for the airline representatives to call my flight. I've got it timed just right. I'll get there in time to join them in the big hall and sleep in my nice hotel for one night. Then I'll join the ride in the morning.

My phone dings and I get a text from Michael informing me that he and Ben got married. He's always wanted that, marriage and a long term relationship. He tricked, but he was always looking for "the boyfriend". I'm just happy that he found someone. Maybe, now he would stop pining after me. I just hope he doesn't go all hetero on me and want the 2.3 kids to boot. He already has the little hustler and provided his junk to Mel for a second muncher kid. Yuck. I look at the clock and see I've still got an hour until boarding, I make some calls and arrange a reception for Mikey and Ben. It's the least I can do. I will get to celebrate their happy homo nuptials. 

I finally get to board the plane and take a short flight to Canada. I've arranged to have my gear and I picked up and taken to the hotel. Once I checked in, I changed into some very warm clothing and grab a ride to the hall where the riders are supposed to be holed up. When I walk in and give Mikey a big congratulatory hug, he questions my presence and I tell him I'm doing the ride. He's so happy to be married that he doesn't argue or question my presence. After all, what's he going to do, send me back home? I found a Klezmer band to play at the reception. Who else would be available in the middle of nowhere? Never mind that these guys were Jewish and probably rejected the idea of two men marrying, but I didn't care and they didn't seem to either. I'd picked up a nice bottle of bubbly and made a few toasts to the lucky couple. Debbie couldn't stop showing everyone her new rock. Seems the cop wants to make an honest woman of her. If she wants to marry some old geezer, who am I to tell her otherwise? Marriage is definitely not on my radar, but it seems to be on the radar for Mikey and Deb. We partied way into the night. Not the best idea when we were going to get up at the crack of early to fucking ride from butt fuck Canada to the US, but who said we were ever in our right mind. 

After the celebration, I return to my hotel and tell the gang I'll be there in the morning. I go to sleep and the next morning, I and my bike arrive at the starting point. It is fucking cold, and I want to know who was the idiot that thought that riding for three days in this shit was a good idea. I think I'm going to really miss Justin at night. His body is always a fucking furnace. I may have lost a few pounds in the last few months after the radiation, so right now there's not a lot of insulation on me. I would ask to join Mikey, that had been my original plan, but even I'm not going to intrude on their honeymoon. Maybe, I'll make the little hustler happy and have him join me in the sleeping bag.

We start riding and I'm impressed with my stamina. All those hours at the gym seemed to have paid off. I don't even really feel the cold. I have on Uniqlo Heattech Long Johns and another layer of windbreaker pants. In addition, I'm wearing several layers on top. I hate this fucking helmet, gives me awful hat head, but I know the rules, everybody rides with one. I look around and see a sea of men on bikes. Vic would be blown away by the number of riders out there. 

Mikey rides up to me and we talk for a few minutes. I know he's worried about me. This is the last day of the ride and it's been hard. In the corner of my eye, I see Ben and he's none too happy with his new hubby. Well, fuck him. Mikey is still my friend, and that's not going to change just because he has a ring on his finger. I've never been one to always be my best advocate. Sometimes I let the moment get to me and today was one of those days. I saw Ben's jealousy and decided to show off. I took my hands off the steering wheel and shouted, "See, no hands." I coasted for a minute and was doing fine, but then my damn bike had other ideas. Next thing I know I'm on the hard dirt and I distinctly heard a snap as I rolled off my bike. 

Damn, that hurt. Several riders come to my side and help me over to the damn paramedic truck. My collar bone is screaming at me and I know that I've most likely broken something.

When the paramedic tells me that my ride is over, I'm not listening. I have to finish this. Sure I'm hurting, but this is nothing like radiation. I survived radiation which was weeks of torture. This is a different kind of hurt. This ride is about Vic and surviving his death. It's about surviving cancer and living life. It's not about a broken bone. I need to know for myself that I can do this.

I need to make Vic proud. He did not give up when he knew he was dying. He fought and gained 4 years. I watched him during those four years and I witnessed a life well-lived. He and Emmett had started a catering business which kept him very busy. He'd been a chef at one time but had given it up when he no longer had the stamina. With the new drugs he was taking, he regained an interest in doing things and finally had the energy to follow his desires. 

He found a new love in his last year of life. Rodney was positive and not afraid to fall in love with another positive man. Their relationship made Vic's last year a happy one. While he and Deb fought over Rodney, in the end, Vic decided he needed and deserved a life of his own He told me that he loved his partner, the one from New York, even though he gave him HIV. Back then, when he was infected, using condoms was still not a common practice. The docs didn't know what they know now. It was still thought that HIV was not preventable. Now we know better. 

But Vic wasn't bitter. He accepted his life and vowed to live it. Sure cancer sucked, and I wouldn't want to live through radiation again. A broken bone is survivable. No one dies of a broken collar bone. Sure it hurts like a motherfucker, but if I can survive this, I can survive anything. This ride is about showing the world that Brian Kinney is a survivor. I learned from Vic that you got to make the best of what you get. I got cancer and I'm supposed to be cured, but who the fuck knows. 

After Mikey hems and haws and realizes that I'm not going to give up, he tells Ben and Hunter that he'll ride with me. Mikey is a good friend. I don't always agree with his decisions, but he does what he does because he thinks it is the best course of action. I'm not sure marrying a man who is positive is a smart move for him. He's too fucking emotional. I watched him when Vic was sick. He was a fucking train-wreck and Ben's been sick a few times already. Mikey will be a slobbering mess and a complete fuck up if Ben dies. But, on the other hand, if I learned anything from Vic, its that life gives you gifts and you better as hell take them when they are offered. Ben found Mikey and he wants to spend his life with him. Who the hell am I to try to talk Mikey out of the potential loss? Everyone loses people in their lives. But the saying ‘better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all" is so true in this situation. 

It's about 2:00 in the afternoon when I injure my fucking collar bone. The ride was set to end at about 5:00. That is only three hours away. I should be able to ride for three hours in a damn sling. For the first hour, I feel Mikey watching me with hawk eyes. The riders have long since passed us and we are the only ones on the road. If I changed my mind, it would be too fucking bad as there is no one to rescue us. We have our phones and even though it is a three-hour bike ride, we are close enough to civilization that we could get a signal. Michael doesn't talk to me for the first hour, but as we enter the second hour, he decides to do so.

"Are you okay?"

"No. I have a fucking broken collar bone. I'm out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and it is like 30 degrees outside."

"Brian..." he says, in response. He knows that I know what he is asking. 

"Yeah, I'm fabulous, Mikey."

"Brian..." he tries again.

"I'm good. I needed to do this. I'd be letting everyone down if I didn't finish the ride," I said.

"No one would blame you if you didn't finish," Michael says as he continues to keep an eye on my very slow riding.

"It isn't about whether it is okay not to finish. I need to finish. I got Remson to sponsor me and if I don't finish the ride, the hospice center would suffer."

"I didn't know you had a sponsor. I'm sure he would give you the money once he found out about your accident," Michael said. He was trying to understand why I continued the ride. I think the reality of a three-day ride was not as glamorous as the idea of a three-day ride. I'd heard many of the riders complain about their sore butts and legs and waxing about all the things they were going to do after the ride. I'm sure he was in that group. While Michael's new hubby hit the gym and had abs to die for, Michael was not the gym bunny. I'm sure that he would not have chosen to ride had it not been for Ben and Hunter,

"It isn't about the money. I'm sure Remson would give me the money even if I don't finish."

"But you just said ...Brian, talk to me. I'm your best friend." 

Michael must have caught me in a weak moment. Normally, I can use the excuse that I have work to do or must be someplace and Michael always accepted that excuse. But today, we were the only two people for miles around and he had me as a command audience.

"It's for Vic. I'm riding for Vic. Do you honestly think that I would ride in the fucking cold, much less sleep in the wilderness on my own volition?"

Michael rode for a little while, contemplating my response and then he said, "I kind of wondered why you agreed. It is very un Brian Kinney like. Does Justin know?"

I didn't like talking about Justin. He and I had a very private relationship, and our conversations were for our own consumption. But this time, I decided to give Mikey a little leeway. He was, after all, spending hours watching over me and even though I would never admit it, I appreciated what he was doing.

"Justin knows. He didn't agree either, and he was relieved when I told him that I wouldn't be on the bus. He was really torn about having me do the ride without his being able to watch me."

"But you rode?"

"I told him I wouldn't be on the bus. I wasn't on the bus. I flew to Canada."

"Oh. He's going to be pissed."

"Probably, but I'm sure he will understand. He understood what Vic meant to me."

It was now twilight, and the little daylight was quickly waning. Thankfully, we had lights on our bikes and were riding on a deserted highway. I think we had seen a grand total of 3 cars since the group of riders rode ahead. 

I was exhausted and almost fell off the bike on several occasions. Michael would call out my name and I would snap out of the daze, continuing to plug along. I had long since stopped thinking about anything but crossing the finish line. In the distance, I could see lights and wondered if that was the end. As we continued to pedal at a snail's pace, I saw people. I couldn't make out their faces but as we neared, I recognized Justin. I could pick out his silhouette anywhere. Someone held him back from crossing the finish line. I was pleased that whoever it was understood that I needed to do this. About 10 minutes later, we rode across the finish line. As soon as I crossed it, Justin came running up to me, helping me off the bike. We went straight to the Loft. I was exhausted. I think I fell asleep on the way there. 

The next morning I made it to the hospital where they gave me a damn sling, mighty uncomfortable. I went to visit Mel and the little she-devil. The tension in the room was thick, but I wasn't up to discussing Lindsay and her latest drama. Justin was very solicitous of me as I expected, but he knew enough to not get in my face. 

After the hospital, we went back to the loft so I could rest. While I'm the first one in line for Anita's brand of pharmacology, the drugs I was taking today were not a result of trying to hide my feelings, but due to real pain. They definitely helped, but the pain was still at my edge of consciousness. 

When I woke up from my nap, Justin asked how I was and if I needed anything. He was standing at his desk, trying to be nonchalant in his tone. 

"So why did you ride?" He asked. When he left for Hollywood, I assured him that I would not be on the bus, but in my mind, that was a technicality. He still stood at the desk, trying to make the question as light as possible. 

"Vic. I rode for Vic," I answered simply, hoping he would take my answer and not fight me on it. 

"Vic?"

"Yeah. Without Vic dying, I would have never been kicked out of Debbie's house and had my cock sucked by a doc who told me to get checked out. He saved me."

"So Vic dying saved your life and you rode in his honor?" Justin and I had talked about Vic dying but not to a great extent. Most of our conversations lately were about my treatment and then how I needed to pace myself and not overdo things."

"I guess you could put it that way. Vic was very important to me and his death put a whole different perspective on my life." I was being honest with Justin. Maybe it was the Vicodin talking or maybe it was the long bike ride back, but I was being honest.

"I didn't expect that. I mean Brian Kinney doesn't express his feelings. Did you do any other thinking while you were riding the back roads of Canada?" Justin decided he could join me and walked toward the mat.

"Bicycling down life's endless highways I had time to think." Justin laid down on the mat, laying on the side where we lay face to face. I didn't want to sleep on the bed, preferring the palette on the floor. 

"Oh," said Justin surprised at the turn of the conversation.

"What I'd do differently if I survived cancer, and equally unpleasant, sleeping in a tent."

"I agree. Now that you have, what did you decide?" Justin asked. He smiled at me, that famous smile that I could see in my sleep. I missed that smile when he was in California and I was riding in bumfuck Canada. 

"The first thing I'd do differently is the bedroom, get rid of that thing over the bed." I moan as he gets up off the mat.

"It's very 90's, I agree." Justin gets off the mat and walks toward the kitchen. He sits on the barstool, watching me as I struggle to get off the mat. He knows me well enough then to offer to help. 

"And then, I'd like to spend more time with my son. He's at an age now where he needs a strong, masculine influence. Especially being raised by a couple of dykes." I walk over to the kitchen area. "He's got to know about Armani, Gucci, and Prada. Not to mention football." Opening the fridge and pulling out a can of soda, I place it on the counter. 

"Any other decisions?" Justin asks.

I pop the top of the soda and take a drink. "I want you to move back in," I tell him, watching him as I say the words that I know he has wanted to hear forever.

Justin raises eyebrows and says, "huh"

I repeat my statement, "I'd like it if you and I would live together."

Justin makes a noise that isn't exactly clear. "Are you proposing?" Justin rubs his face with his hands, not believing the words coming out of my mouth.

"Of course not. The sudden and unexpected plethora of gay marriages, I'd hate to add to the glut. All this running back and forth between Daphne's is time-consuming and inconvenient. Just last week you forgot your socks and had to borrow a pair of mine. As for the times that you're not around, I wouldn't particularly mind if you were." I walk back toward the living room, running my hand over Justin's hair.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me that since the first day you brought me here," Justin says, surprised, pleased and scared at my admission.

"Well. what do you say? Should I make room in my drawers for your drawers?" There's still not any furniture in the room. Now that Kinnetik is up and running, I ordered a couch, but it hasn't arrived. I hate getting up and down on the damn pallet, but I'm not going to stand here and look at him. I thought the twat would be all over me with my proposal. I had a lot of time to think while riding in the fucking cold. It wasn't just the last few hours while Mikey and I were doing our slow return to the good old USA. I thought about Justin since he left for LA. Having cancer changed me. Even though I had lived by the motto, no apologies, no regrets, I was beginning to realize that I didn't want to have regrets. I had made up my mind that I wanted him around. 

Lying about Ibiza, how he didn't mean anything to me, not wanting him around for my treatments, etc. were all regrets. Despite my words, I had regrets. I hated the pink posse and his participation with them. I hated him with Ethan. I wanted to give Justin more of me. What that means, I'm not really sure, but I knew I wanted him around. 

I watched him sitting in my kitchen. The kitchen that I didn't ever cook in, but one that I absolutely had to have a state of the art. The kitchen that Justin loved, as he did like to cook. Now he sat there, not saying a word. What was he thinking? Was he just too surprised to answer or had he changed his mind? I knew, or at least I thought I knew him. I thought he would jump at this chance. 

He came toward me then, sitting down, his face a mixture of pain and uncertainty. I listen to him, telling me about California and the job offer to do Rage. I watch his face, filled with exuberance and his body was thrumming with excitement. I listen and feel my heart dropping out of my chest. I knew what I had to do.

I want the best for him and while I already regret telling him to go to California, I don't ever want him to regret me. I don't want him to feel that I was the reason he never was successful or didn't make the movie, or any of the unknown regrets that he might have about his career. He needs to find his own life. I am too old for him and he doesn't need to be with a guy with one ball. I'm a master at hiding my feelings, been doing it all my life. 

Justin sees my face and stops talking. "Brian, don't. I see the wheels turning in your head. What is going through your head?" He knows what I'm thinking. He understands without me having to say anything. 

"You should go to LA. You're going to be a great artist." I bit my lip a little and smiled with a quirk. 

"I'm only going for a little while, till the movie is finished. I'll be back. You know there are planes? You can come see me."

I was silent. I wanted to pull him in my arms and hold him there for a long time. I knew I wouldn't do that. I saw Vic out of the corner of my eye nodding his head and smiling.

I had just ridden 300 miles on a fucking bike and the last 20 miles with a broken collar bone. I had made up my mind to make changes to my life. Was I ready to let Justin go but still keep in touch? I realized that I did it for Vic and he would want me to follow my heart as he did. I rode for Vic and now I was going to live like he wanted me to. He wanted me to be the best homosexual I could be. He taught me a lot, but the thing I learned the most from Vic is you gotta grab life by the balls. I've only got one ball left so I better grab hard. 

The end


End file.
